Gold and Swans
by NothingImpossible
Summary: A foetp/otp-inspired prompt based on a post about two names written on a person's wrist - one their soulmate, one their enemy, and only time will tell which is which.


**A/N:** Random one shot for lillpon and her favourite foetp, based on a post about soulmates and enemies.

 **Disclaimer:** Not my characters, not my world. Just my imagination borrowing them for a bit.

 _Gold on one hand, Swan on the other._

It was his mantra, his calm, his grounding.

He'd repeated these words often enough during his too long life that he didn't even have to mouth the words for the sound to reach his ears.

Born with the words on his wrists, he'd never done more than most to try and find which was which. He was curious, meeting new people was always nerve wracking because of the potential for one of those names to fall from the stranger's lips. But he'd never been more curious than that, never went off on quests to seek out either soulmate or enemy, to settle the mystery once and for all, never paid it much attention at all.

Until he met her.

Her eyes, a piercing blue that spoke to his soul, her heart bursting from unchased dreams, they fell in love and he was sure she was the one. Perhaps Milah meant "gold" in some far off language, perhaps it was more of a puzzle than a straightforward name. Her husband was but an obstacle to dispose of, a man unwilling to face his fear to be with the woman he believed he loved. She regretted the boy, talked of him often, and perhaps one day they would have come for him.

But fate had other plans. Her husband, now crocodilian, scaly, and green, ripped her from his life. She died in his arms, an unspoken "I love you" forever lingering on his tongue. He barely registered the pain of his lost hand, his heart screaming in agony too loudly for anything else to matter. She was gone, the light, his gold, never to return.

He half expected one of the words on his wrist to fade. But nothing changed.

It was fitting, he supposed, that the blunted wrist bore the other word, "swan". Vicious creature, their beauty and attractiveness masking a fierce fighter who attacked without warning. Much like the Crocodile, his sworn enemy. His soulmate gone, the golden edges of life dulled by pain and loss, he was sure there was nothing left to live for, besides his revenge.

He was so sure of his assessment that he nearly missed the name of the golden-haired woman holding him bound to the tree.

Swan. Emma Swan.

 _Impossible_ , he thought. His love was dead, the only woman who ever mattered. Besides, he was centuries older. Soulmates didn't work like that.

Right?

He tried to get a peek at her arms, to see what words she held. The cut from the beanstalk climb was the perfect opportunity, but only a flower adorned the inside of her wrist, what looked like a buttercup. Her right hand was surprisingly bare. _Odd_.

He tried to focus on their task, but her presence distracted him. He wanted, no _needed_ , to know more about her, this mysterious woman he seemed to understand so well. When she left him with the giant, he was fully convinced swans would be his downfall. His revenge was so close, the Crocodile within his grasp as he steered his ship toward the Storybrooke port.

That's when he learned who his enemy was, in this new realm.

Gold.

Fate laughs at her tangled stories, but he soon found a way to focus, find his enemy's weakness. His love, Belle.

He didn't know what the bright lights meant, didn't much care as smooth metal slammed into him and he rolled into the dirt.

 _A love for a love_.

Emma Swan came to visit him, but only to get information. His head spun, from the recent trauma and the tricks his wrists were playing on him.

 _Gold on one hand, Swan on the other._

He couldn't worry about it, one step left in his revenge against the enemy he'd fought so long. New York was loud, but the poison glistened sweetly on his hook, even sweeter still half sunk into the Crocodile's chest.

She knocked him out and tied him in a closet.

 _Gold and swans, swans and gold._

Events passed quickly from then on. He came back to the small town, found a different way to destroy his adversary. But the price was high - too high - his own life the only thing of value he had anymore. Maybe the heroes could be helpful after all.

He tried, tried to do things their way, but they _cared_ for each other, for everyone, at the expense of his revenge. He stole the bean and did what he had done best for hundreds of years - he lived.

But at what cost?

She begged him, the swan. Begged him to join them, help them. She understood him as much as he did her, something shared in a past separated by scores of years.

It unsettled him.

It intrigued him.

He went back, only to find himself needed, actually wanted by someone else. Or, at least, his ship. He offered, and they accepted, Gold and Swan joining his crew. Neverland was a place he never wished to return, but a place he knew, a place he could be of some use. Not blackmailed into being a pawn, but his own choice.

He could feel the changes the more time he spent with them, the desire to do the right thing, to make her smile, even through the worry and fear for her son.

She kissed him, held onto his jacket and pulled him closer. Wanted him, needed him, chose him. She tasted of his rum, her hair soft under his fingers.

He could feel Milah slipping away, his hold on her memory dissipating. He never knew there was even the possibility of anyone else, before now. She had been his golden light, his sunshine, but now there was this Swan.

 _Gold and swans, swans and gold._

Storybrooke again, and then goodbyes, all too soon. He had just opened himself up to the idea of her, and now she was leaving, never to remember. Back to the Forest that held no sign of his Swan, he raced at the message begging his help.

New York. Storybrooke.

His love only grew as he fought at her side. He wanted to be there, to share in the joy of her new brother, her helplessness at messing up her parents meeting. He danced with her, he wiped her tears.

It nearly ended for him, when the enemy stole his heart. But his soulmate brought it back.

 _Gold on one hand, Swan on the other._

 _Don't you know, Emma? It's you._

Which left Gold as his enemy. Gold as the one attempting to rewrite the stories. Gold who finally managed to kill him in the book. Gold, whose darkness spread into the woman he loved once again, the darkness that reached out and pulled him in, too.

Darkness that he managed to fight, he thought he could destroy. But Gold stole that, too.

She came for him, and brought him back. They shared a soul before, but now they shared a heart. They needed no words to express what they felt, as they sat together on their porch.

He learned that she hadn't been in the land with magic long enough to have words appear on her arms. He learned that the cost of defeating the enemy often came at the price of the soulmate, so he lay his revenge to rest for good.

 _Gold on one hand, Swan on the other_.

He thought it fitting, the "swan" on his maimed wrist. She traced the scars sometimes, at night, when they both couldn't sleep. A missing hand and the history that went with it didn't make him less, with her.

With her, he was whole.


End file.
